Book & Beer

Through some haze of blue-tinged
smoke rows of
crisps, salted and vinegared,
polished peanuts, late
pub grub chalked up
on a blackboard's slate,

an odour of English ale.
On shiny, lacquered, oval
tables used glasses, subdues lighting...
from somewhere far off al tolling till... and
all of it framed by finger-print-smudged
brass rails for foot and hand.

This is the tawdy world you loved;
warm, cosy, dartboard hung,
billiard table, like a green
village square, much sought
after where even children knew how to place
their fingers for most support,

beer mats and chrysanthemums,
fag ends, crumpled plastic bags -
and the conversation: of french letters,
perms, divorce, who's lost whose job, moved,
kids, cost therfor, and hysterical or
macho laughter.  All this your loved

and in such places now I seek your voice,
your grin, your 'hallo darlin'' to the girl
behind the bar, your stumbling stances, disapproving
eyes when it was time to go.
In that wholesome air, with book and beer,
I see you now and then still sitting there.

© R.G. Bishop